


Special Edition

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-31
Updated: 2006-03-31
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: There's a good reason why Daniel doesn't usually let people borrow his archaeological journals.





	Special Edition

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"MajorDavis is erogenous," said Teal'c. 

Paul Davis closed his eyes briefly, and willed away his incipient blush. For an hour or so, his day had gone well. A straightforward briefing with General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill, a cup of coffee with Lou Ferretti in the commissary, and then ... and then this apparently urgent meeting.

He opened his eyes and looked around the small group, daring them to laugh. Major Samantha Carter had suddenly found something very interesting in the software manual beside her, Sergeant Siler was picking non-existent lint from his navy blue overalls, and Nurse Hamilton looked like she had a serious case of lockjaw. Teal'c returned his stare.

"I think you mean erroneous, Teal'c" said Paul, keeping his voice even. Why had he ever suggested that Teal'c subscribe to those new word-a-day lists through e-mail? 

"I stand corrected," acknowledged Teal'c. "But you are still erroneous."

"No, I'm not!" said Paul, gesturing at the tattered journal that lay on the bench in front of them all. "Daniel's going to take one look at this and know instantly that we've borrowed his journal. Look at the cover!"

Sam reached over and grabbed the journal. "He's right, Teal'c. I can see where candlewax has dripped on it, and then it's been scraped off. The High Priestess is ... er ... missing some ... yeah, it's obvious."

Sam passed the journal to Paul and he slowly leafed through the pages, mentally cataloguing the damages.

The glossy cover that had once proudly read "International Journal of Archaeology - Special Edition of Public Places and Ceremonies" had been corrupted to "Internal ... Pub...ic monies". The cover girl of 400 BCE was no longer pin-up material. The first thirty pages were pristine: an article on the Olympics. Page thirty-one was where all the trouble started.

Drs. Blauenstein and Mosley from Cambridge had discovered an untouched Ancient Greek bath house on the island of Mykonos. On the first page of the journal, the find was trumpeted by the editors as 'unique' and 'fascinating', and an unknown donor's generosity had allowed the journal to produce a special edition that included colour plates. Looking at the photos, it seemed that nearly every square inch of available space of the bath house's walls were covered in with murals and the colours were crisp and vibrant: vivid blues, reds and yellows with gold highlights. 

The content of the murals was far more interesting. Paul sighed. It was almost disturbing to see the keen interest in archaeology that had developed among his SGC colleagues.

"Sam, you've left cookie crumbs between the pages! Where were you reading this? In bed?" asked Paul. Sam scowled at him. Paul suddenly wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"No," said Sam. "I removed all the cookie crumbs before I loaned it to Janet." Her face brightened and she gave Paul an evil grin. "Maybe *Janet* was reading it in bed."

Paul swallowed and tried to ignore the image that was forming in his mind: a combination of Dr Janet Fraiser and a Mykonos nymph in diaphanous draperies, lounging on a golden couch. He continued.

"There's grease all over page forty-one. Who did that, and more to the point, how do we remove it?"

Siler coughed. "Major Carter dropped it on the lathe when she got to that page. Don't worry!" he added hurriedly. "The lathe wasn't on at the time."

Paul looked at the page again. Two naked men, legs entwined, were feeding each other grapes while lounging at what looked to be a banquet. No. Not a banquet. Why on earth did Sam want to look at that picture? Don't go there! He quickly shut the journal and tried to go back to a happy place that featured Janet and a couch. 

Looking at the spine begged another question. "Who cracked the glue in the binding?" asked Paul. Sam squirmed and looked at Siler.

"Major Davis, it was the only way I could get the pages to fit on the scanner," said Siler apologetically. "Major Carter was very insistent, and Nurse Hamilton said that some of the staff in the infirmary were very interested in ... er ... archaeology." Siler looked at Hamilton who had the grace to blush, but still nodded in agreement.

"So is that why the journal automatically opens to the double page spread on forty-four and forty-five?" Paul almost dreaded the answer.

"That would be the marines. They have discovered the joys of archaeology," replied Teal'c, craning his neck to see the nymphs on page forty-five who were apparently very slowly running away from Amazonian maidens on page forty-four, while losing their see-through skirts on the way. Teal'c noted Paul's glare and reluctantly stood up, walking over to the side bench. 

Paul wrestled with the journal, trying to make it lie flat without any measurable success. He gave up. "It's pretty much beyond repair. I think we'll have to get another copy from the Institute. It can't cost too much," he said.

"We've already thought of that," said Sam. Paul breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam continued. "The entire print run has been sold out. There aren't any extra copies even for subscribers. It was the most popular issue in the journal's history. I've even called some friends at UCLA and another one at Brown to see if they have spares, but couldn't find anything. We'll just have to bluff it out."

"Major Carter decided that we should return the journal secretly to Dr. Jackson's office before he returns from P7X401 with SG11, and we won't say anything about it," said Hamilton. 

"Sounds like a great job for the junior officer here," muttered Paul.

"No," said Sam firmly. "We're going to draw straws. Teal'c, do you have them?"

"I do," said Teal'c, coming back to the group. Grasped in his large fist were five lengths of copper wire. "It was not possible to find straw in this facility, so I have created these instead."

"Paul, you can go first," said Sam. Paul reached over and grabbed a straw. Any straw. 

Obviously not the correct straw. 

"I'll get the key for Dr Jackson's office," said Siler, looking at the tiny piece of wire Paul held. "He isn't expected back from P7X401 for another hour."

"Thanks," said Paul. He grabbed the journal, straightened his shoulders and left, Siler following him.

"That's a relief," said Sam to Teal'c and Hamilton. "I wasn't looking forward to explaining the state of that journal." 

Teal'c smiled and opened his hand. There, shining in the light, were four equally small pieces of wire.

* * *

Two weeks later

Daniel sat down at his desk and looked up at Jack who was still thumbing through the journal Daniel had just found underneath a pile of memos. "You see, part of being a good archaeologist is the ability to work out information about individuals and their society from the clues they've left behind," said Daniel, smiling at Jack.

Jack put down the tattered journal on Daniel's desk. "Don't bother telling me that half of SGC have read this. I've already worked that out," he said, wiping his hands on his jacket. "Carter's gotta stop eating cookies while she reads."

"I wasn't referring to that," said Daniel.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

Daniel pulled out another volume from the far side of his computer. "I'm referring to a certain colonel who discovered the joy of archaeology long before most people. The same colonel who borrowed my second copy of the special edition after Sam disappeared with the first one while I was out of my office. The same colonel who claimed he had to--and I quote--bone up on ancient civilizations."

Jack coughed nervously and moved towards the door. "Very helpful. Pity we haven't met many Ancient Greeks, but better to be overprepared than underprepared. Gotta go."

After Jack left, Daniel stared at the doorway, then turned his gaze towards the journal he still held. As he had done many times before, he held the journal by the spine and let the pages lazily turn until they found their favorite resting place. "Sure, you're prepared all right, Jack," he murmured to himself. "You'll be the first person I'll call if I'm attacked by a naked god who wants to feed me grapes."

Fin


End file.
